All the Rage (DI Adam Fawley #4) - Cara Hunter Page 0,34
kill him.
‘We’ve identified several vans that were on Cherwell Drive and the Marston Ferry Road at the right time, sir. We’re endeavouring to establish if the drivers have valid alibis, but beyond that we have very little to go on.’
Harrison frowns, picks up his pen and starts tapping it. I’m trying not to let it irritate me.
‘What about an appeal – asking the public for help?’
So that’s it. I wonder, for a tiny moment, if he’s been talking to Gis – whether that’s where Gis got it from. But he can’t have – Gis wouldn’t go behind my back –
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea, sir. It could cause significant and completely unnecessary alarm –’
His frown deepens. ‘I’m not sure the quick wins might not outweigh any potential downside.’
Jesus. He’ll be talking about low-hanging fruit next.
‘We can certainly keep it as an option, sir.’
‘So you’ll have a word with the Press Office – tee them up, just in case?’
I get to my feet, glad of any excuse to get out of there – to make this conversation stop. And it’s not his turgid bloody lingo I’m talking about now. To paraphrase those immortal words, I do not have to say anything, but it’s quite another thing not mentioning it when questioned at point-blank range.
‘Absolutely, sir. I’ll get on to them right away.’
* * *
* * *
Adam Fawley
3 April 2018
12.30
I’m late to the doctor’s: Alex is already in the consulting room by the time I get there and the kindly receptionist bustles me through as soon as she spots me.
‘They’ve only just started,’ she says in a low voice. ‘Dr Robbins has had a very heavy morning.’
Alex looks up when the door opens and I see the relief wash over her face. She kept saying today is just routine – that I didn’t really need to come, not if I was busy – but I know she wanted me here. Just as I know how worried she is, and how much worse that anxiety is getting as her due date draws nearer. And how hard she’s working to keep any of that from me.
‘Ah, Mr Fawley,’ says the doctor, looking up at me over her glasses. She’s only been at the practice for a couple of years. Which is my way of saying she never knew Jake. She knows about him, of course. It’s in the file, for a start, but even if it wasn’t, everyone knows here. It’s why the receptionist is always so nice to me, why Alex is getting check-ups every three weeks: you get a special sort of compassion if you’re the parent of a dead child. A child who died at their own hand.
‘I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic.’ No one questions that excuse. Not in this town.
‘I’m glad you’re here.’ She smiles briefly, then looks back at her notes. ‘The health visitor asked Alexandra to come in today because she was concerned about her blood pressure. As am I. It’s rather higher than we’d ideally like.’ She looks over at Alex. ‘Are you under any particular stress at the moment?’
Alex opens her mouth then closes it again. ‘No,’ she says at last. ‘Not especially. I’m trying to take things easy. I even got a cab here so I didn’t have to drive –’
‘But you’re still working, I think?’
Alex nods. ‘Only from home. Well, mostly. I’m not going into the office unless I really have to. You know, for meetings. Sometimes clients insist. If it’s a big case.’
The doctor makes a disapproving face. ‘That sounds pretty stressful to me.’
‘I have an assistant – she’s doing most of the basics –’
But the doctor doesn’t appear to be listening. She takes off her glasses, as if to underline the point. ‘I’d like you to take at least a week off – completely off – and then we’ll check your blood pressure again and decide where we go from there.’
I look at Alex and then back at the doctor. ‘But there’s nothing actually wrong, is there? Alex isn’t at any risk –’
‘No, no,’ says the doctor briskly. ‘I’m just being cautious. Perhaps overcautious, but I’d rather err on the side of prudence. In the circumstances.’
Alex takes my arm as I walk her back to the car. Perhaps I’m getting paranoid too, but she seems to be leaning more heavily than usual.
‘You’re sure you feel OK? No dizziness, nothing like that?’
She smiles and squeezes my arm. ‘No, nothing like that. Stop worrying.’
‘I am worrying. That doctor just ordered bed rest.’